


wreckage and recovery

by meet me at dagobah (Ejunkiet)



Series: forged and broken [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Jedi Training, Prequel, post-TFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/meet%20me%20at%20dagobah
Summary: “Long ago, there was a prophecy that spoke of one who would end the struggle between the dark and light sides of the Force. At first, they believed it was my father. My sister believed it was me. I believed it was Ben.”--A prequel to ‘Hamartia’ that extends from the events of episode seven, where Luke is all kinds of damaged and broken, and General Leia is a saint.





	1. wreckage and recovery

Starkiller base lights up like a firework as Rey takes over the pilot seat of the Millennium Falcon, pulling them away from the crumbling surface of the planet as the salvation of the First Order burns down around them.

They'd done it. In spite of everything, they'd done it.

The ship shakes beneath them as she takes manual control of the ascent, pushing the vessel through manoeuvres it hasn’t attempted in at least two decades as she struggles to get them through atmo in one piece. A constant beeping at her right informs her that the power cells to the shields are nearly exhausted, its urgency echoed by the wookie as he barks a warning from the depths of the ship: _I’m going to lose him if you don’t keep her stable!_

_“I’m working on it!”_

A pack of tie fighters rise from the wreckage of the base, setting a pursue course as she clears the tree line, and the Falcon groans under the strain when she pulls them sharply to the left to keep the stream of fire away from their hyper drive. She catches a glimmer of black from the corner of her eye and hisses out an expletive as she swerves again, narrowly avoiding clipping the wings of a descending shuttle. It takes her a moment to recognize it, distracted as she fights to keep on top of the information that is flooding to her from failing areas of the ship, but her hands stutter against the controls when she glances out of the viewing port.

They’re face to face with an Upsilon-class command shuttle, its sharp, angular wings slicing a dark silhouette across the white blanket of snow.

“ _Frag_.”

With Finn in the medical bay receiving emergency medical attention from her co-pilot, she has few options remaining to her. She takes the only one that makes sense: flight. 

“Chewbacca! Buckle Finn down, and find something to hold onto!”

There's no time for anything else. With one hand, she flips the switches on the main engines, pushing them past their limits as the last of their shielding wavered, her other hand on the bulk head as she holds her breath. She has one shot at this.

“Now!!”

She switches to manual override and pulls up, _up_ , both hands on the steering mechanism. The force of the acceleration presses her roughly against the worn leather of the seat, squeezing the air from her lungs as the pressure pushes against her chest.

They breach the upper layer of the atmosphere just as their shields fail, and she guns the hyperdrive, pushing them to lightspeed as Starkiller base lights up like a sun behind them, a brilliant collision of rock and fire as the solar cells fail, releasing the vast amounts of energy stored within the planet's core.

The hull reverberates with the aftershocks of the explosion, but she doesn’t spare a glance back at the destruction, her fingers flying across the controls as she sets their course for D’Qar and the base of the resistance. Her arms are trembling, although her hands are steady on the controls, and she prays to the gods or whatever Force that exists in the universe that they’ll make it in time.

She’d finally found someone she considered a real friend, a _true_ friend, and she wasn’t going to lose him now.

\--

Finn’s body is a small thing in the large, furry arms of the wookie as the landing gear locks the Falcon into place in the loading bay on D’Qar with the few remaining ships of the Resistance Fleet, and she feels it like a knife in her chest. His body is drenched in sweat from head to foot, his hair sticking to his forehead and clumping at odd angles, but she takes comfort in the fact that he’s breathing at _all._ The docking platform begins to lower, and she makes a split-second decision, scrambling across the short space to press a kiss against his forehead.

This feels like an admission, of her attachment to him, of how much she appreciates his friendship, but she doesn’t care, using a trembling hand to brush his hair from his forehead as she scans his face, committing his features to memory.

“You better make it, Finn.”

The loading bay doors open with a tight click, and she steps back at Chewie’s low rumble, watching as the wookie makes his way carefully down the ramp to lower Finn’s body onto a stretcher prepared by the standing by medical team. She clenches her hands into tighter fists at her side, taking a few moments to regain control of her breathing. There was nothing else she could do now.

Around them, the flight deck is chaotic; a blend of species and languages as instructions are called over the heads of the bustling mass, with only a few faces that she recognises when she makes her way off the ship.

Despite their losses during the attack on Starkiller, the Resistance forces seem to have grown since the last time she had set foot on their base. From the styles of their uniforms, she guesses they must have recruited en masse from the last survivors of the Hosnian system.

She stumbles as she reaches the end of the loading ramp, her legs trembling with the exertion of keeping upright. Now that the thrill of the battle has passed and the excess adrenaline has burned away, she realises that she is _exhausted._ She has to see that Finn makes it through, though, so she pushes herself forwards after the medical staff, leaning on her staff for support as she makes her way through the crowd.

“Rey.”

A hand settles on her shoulder and she takes in a breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she’s turned around and observed. General Leia Organa’s gaze is penetrating but kind, and she doesn’t speak when she pulls Rey into a warm embrace, just holds her as the trembling in her shoulder turns into full-fledged shakes and the full extent of the last several hours takes a hold of her.

“Come, you should rest.”

\--

Leia Organa leads her through a series of narrow corridors deep within the confines of the base, following the path the medical staff had taken Finn a little while earlier. The journey goes by in an exhausted blur, with Rey’s awareness restricted to the guiding hand on her shoulder and the difficult task of placing one foot in front of the other. The general pauses outside of a door a little way off from the main thoroughfares, catching the attention of a nearby steward to request a change of clothes and some water before leading the way inside.

The room turns out to be a small apartment of sorts, a spacious hall opening up into a small seating area for greeting guests, and as General Organa steps into the room and gestures for her to take a seat, Rey wonders what exactly she intends for her, now that the map is safe and Finn’s mission complete.

She’s still thinking about that when Leia takes the seat at her side and says, “I hope these rooms will do; it was all we could set up on short notice.”

“This is for me?”

She laughs. At Rey’s confused look, Leia goes on to explain, her eyes still glittering with mirth, that she reminded her of her brother, Luke. “He was always surprised by the sizes of rooms, at how much space an individual could have to themselves. It was a side effect from growing up in the desert, on Tatooine.”

“I…”

Leia waves her off, the hand on her arm squeezing gently before she pulls away, replacing some of the distance between them. Her tone is gentle as she says, “we’ll talk more in the morning. Finn is being treated in the far medical bay. Someone will wake you when we have a status update.”

She wishes her a good night and makes her way out of the room, leaving Rey alone with her thoughts. Rey glances towards the bedroom, and she can see that someone has already set up a camp bed with fitted sheets and bedding. It’s almost too much, and Rey bites her lip, staving off the swell of her emotions. She wasn’t going to cry over a few blankets and a pillow, she _wasn’t_.

Stumbling, she makes her way across the room until she can collapse into the bed, burying her face into the softness of the cotton sheets.

She falls asleep within seconds.

\--

His last memories are of the frozen forest on Starkiller.

Everything around him is ice and cold, and it’s a stark contrast to the warm places he’d spent his formative years as a child; the grassy meadows of his home planet, the mountains where he’d trained with Luke. It’s beautiful, in its own way, the way the snow blankets the deep scars wrought into the landscape by the clash of their blades. The cold leaches the last of the heat from his body as the earth shudders around him, and he thinks this is a fitting place to die.

The treeline over heads wavers, the weathered trunks splintering as crackling streams of energy circulate between them, and the last of the power cells that contain the power of the star fail. The planet begins the slow, yet surprisingly uncomplicated process of tearing itself apart, and it can’t be long now.

He remembers the clash of violent energy as crimson and azure blades collided, the look in her eyes as the scattering lights played across her face. In that moment he knew she’d felt the pull of the dark, the tantalising pulse of power as she stood over him, blade poised over his throat, prepared to end it, once and for all.

His master was right: he’d felt the shift in the force; more strongly than ever when she’d stood there, her eyes alight with fury and anger. Her grip had shifted, flexing around the weapon in her hand and he’d held her gaze, waiting for it -- the final strike that would end this, all of this.

Then she was gone, torn from him by the ear-splitting groan of wrenching earth, and his vision darkens, the world slipping away, until there is nothing.

\--

Finn looks peaceful, flickering lights along his skin, breaths deep and even from the medically induced coma.

He is going to make it. The doctor was smiling when she told her, and she can feel the truth in it, the warmth of it in their expression and manner, and she knows they can be trusted.

She lets out a breath, feeling the tightness in his chest abate for the first time since they’d returned to D’Qar. He’s safe. He’s _safe._

There’s a commotion in the doorway behind her, the medical staff jumping into a flurry of activity, and she hears the murmur of _General Organa._

She turns to the entryway of the medical bay as General Organa makes her way across the room, pausing at the bedsides of those who reach out to her, offering her hand and a smile. By the time she reaches Finn’s cot at the farthermost corner of the room, she’s spoken with most of the patients and the medical staff.

"Rey. I heard the good news.”

“Yes.” She smiles, and her eyes are wet, threatening to leak down her cheeks. “He’ll be okay.”

Leia Organa takes her hand in both of hers, and the touch is gentle, comforting. “He’s a strong one. There was never any doubt.”

She nods, taking a breath, two, pushing the shamble of her emotions back beneath the surface. “I know. Do you need me?”

“We have a mission for you.” Leia Organa pauses, glancing at Finn before meeting her gaze again, and the mantle of general lowers for a moment, and the look in her eyes is soft and understanding, kind. “I know the last few days have been rough for you. We will only ask this of you if you think you’re ready.”

There is no question in her mind that she is. “I’m ready.”

\--

It has been a while since she had last seen the Millennium Falcon. The repairs had gotten the ship into working order faster than she would have thought possible, and she’s pleased to see that they hadn’t replaced that god damn resistor.

A rumble behind her, and she smiles, turning to greet the towering form of Chewbacca.

“So you’re to be my co-pilot?”

He nods with another rumble, walking past her and up the loading ramp. She takes a breath, holding it for a second, her hands flexing at her sides.

She had never imagined her life would turn out this way. A humble scavenger from Jakku, piloting the Millennium Falcon on a mission to find the last Jedi Master, Luke Sykwalker.

**\--**

The skin of his face feels tight, thick. The wound cauterised immediately upon infliction due to the nature of their weaponry, but this is more than that –the wound aches, but it’s the dull ache of time; he doesn’t feel the pain that should be there. Hux’s doing, no doubt, in more ways than one.

The first thing he does once he is upright is strip the lining of his robes, and disable each and every single last one of the tracers that had been sewn into the cloth.

He imagines Hux’s irritation once he’d realised what had been done, and feels a small measure of petty satisfaction. He does not know if it was Snoke’s orders, or Hux’s own initiative, but he would not be tracked, like some sort of pet.

_Even if those tracers had saved your life._

Hand clenched into a fist, he used Force-imbued strength to eviscerate the pieces of the small tracking chips, crushing the small packets of metal and wiring. The table fractures beneath his strikes, tumbling to the floor in a broken pile of limbs

He pauses, the hilt of his lightsaber loose in his hands as he glances towards the flicker of movement at the corner of the room – his reflection. 

His saber ignites, the cross guards flaring to control the flux of pure energy, and he slashes the blade across the surface, sending droplets of molten glass spraying across the room.

His anger abates to a low thrum beneath his skin, settling back into the constant simmer of self-loathing and recrimination.

He would not fail, next time.


	2. the bluffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is not what she’d expected from a man shrouded in mythology and rumour.

The Falcon departs to undergo refuelling and maintenance, with the promise of return in several weeks, dropping off her and the old astromech, R2-D2. Due to the number of steps, she left arrtoo in power saving mode within a sheltered cave just off of their landing site, and makes the walk alone.

The island is a lot colder than she expected, chilled wind biting at her skin as she begins her ascent of the cliffs, following the narrow steps and her fledgling sense of the force to the bluffs facing the wide expanse of the ocean. She falters as the sight of the water that stretches endlessly to the horizon, amazed by the sight of such a vast amount of _blue_ , before her eyes are drawn to a figure standing on the edge of the bluffs.

The sense of power, of _light,_ that emanates from him makes her sure. Skywalker.

She takes in a shaky breath, holds it, feels the way it rattles in her lungs in time with her heartbeat. _This is it._

She stretches out the lightsaber – _his_ lightsaber – before her, but he doesn’t take it.

“Please.”

He reaches out a hand towards it, but then pauses. The saber is warm within her grasp, comfortingly solid in her grip. After a moment, he lowers his hand, the folds of his robe hiding the gleam of metal joints from view.

"I know why you're here."

He looks tired, resigned.

"Come." 

\--

She follows him along the bluffs to a small ruin hidden in the cleft of a cliff. Following him inside, she is surprised to find a small house, little more than a cabin and furnished with the bare essentials of homemade furniture, including a small wooden bed and a rug made of animal furs.

He takes a seat on the corner of the rug closest to the small iron stove, and begins the laborious process of starting a fire from scratch. Glancing back, he gestures at the open beside him on the rug. “Please, sit.”

It takes a few minutes for him to create a steady flame, and then longer after that to ignite the kindling. The small space heats quickly with the introduction of stove, and he fills a small iron kettle with water and herbs settling it over the stove to boil.

“So. What is your name?”

She blinks, drawing her gaze away from the fire to find his eyes on her. “I’m Rey.”

“Hello, Rey. I’m Luke Skywalker.” The whistle of the iron kettle begins to shriek, and the Jedi gets slowly to his feet, grabbing two mugs from the sideboard and pouring a healthy measure of warm liquid into each. He hands her one with a smile.

“Now, I knew I recognised that hunk of junk you flew in or earlier. How are Han and Chewie?”

Her breath catches in her throat. Her hand trembles, the liquid in her mud threatening to spill until a pair of hands enclose her own, steadying her. “It's true then. I felt… I felt his absence. I’d hoped it was a mistake.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head at her apology, squeezing her hands lightly within his grip. “It was not your doing. Can I ask how it happened?”

“Kylo Ren.”

A flicker of pain flashes across his expression, before he averts his eyes back to their joined hands. “I see.”

\--

Luke is not what she’d expected from a man shrouded in mythology and rumour.

She doesn’t think that is necessarily a bad thing as he serves her another mug full of tea, his smile warm and kind as he lowers himself back onto the furs beside her. She accepts it with a small smile of her own, revelling in the warmth that seeps through the ceramic.

She voices the thought later, as the warmth of the small cabin lulls her into a sense of complacency, and he lets out a low roiling chuckle.

“I was a farm hand, originally. Helped with my uncle’s moisture farm back on Tatooine.”

“I was a scavenger on Jakku,” she admits, her cheeks flushed as she keeps her eyes on the fire. Her humble origins had never been a source of embarrassment for her before now, but in front of Luke Skywalker, she couldn’t help but feel inadequate. “I found a droid carrying a piece of a map – or rather, the droid found me.”

“Another resident of a desert planet.” He’s smiling when she glances back at him, warm and open. “It’s funny how life works out that way.”

They settle into an easy silence as the hot liquid in her cup cools, and she takes another long draft of the brew. It’s both bitter and sweet, reminiscent of the root tea that she used to get when she was a child and the other elderly women had taken pity on her enough to take her in during the long winter months.

She loses herself briefly amidst the memories, of worn, calloused hands and the tentative familial love that had bloomed between them before the summer months had come again. Then the soft, warm cadence of his voice pries her from her thoughts, and she realises his statement is directed at her.

"You must have questions."

She stares down at her hands. The words are at the tip of her tongue, blunt and intrusive, her curiosity mingling with the nerves that simmer just under the surface of her skin. She’s afraid to ask them; she’s not even sure if she wants to know the answer to her questions.

"You want to ask about Ben Solo."

She's faced with the memory of the confrontation on the narrow walkway, the stiffening of Han's body as the fiery red blade had pierced through him, his hands on the face of his son, before he falls, and she glances away into the fire, her throat tight. She can feel Luke's eyes on her, his posture casual, hands hanging loosely between his legs.

“Your assumptions are correct. He was – is - Han Solo’s son. My nephew.” After a moment, he releases a long, slow breath, bowing his head towards the floor. "This is a long and complicated story. Wait a moment."

He pushes himself away from the fire and moves to the door, his steps turning sharp as he reaches the cobblestone outside the small hut. When he returns, he’s carrying a selection of dried and cured meats and fruit that he must have kept stored outside, turning to a small table balanced against the far wall of the hut to begin preparations for a meal, and her mouth waters at the sight of the fresh fruit. She glances away, admonishing herself for her reaction. She was a scavenger from the desert; the ration packs she’d brought with her would suit her fine.

There’s a rustle as Luke moves back to the rug, and she blinks as a worn, wooden bowl is placed in her hands. “Here.”

A contented silence falls between them as they eat, filled with the comforting crackle of the small fire before them. It continues after they’ve finished and the bowls have been placed to one side, his eyes dark and shadowed as he contemplates the fire, and she watches the flickering of the flames.

"The Force is strong in my family.”

She glances at him, her grip tightening around her knees as she meets his eyes, and wonders how long he’s been watching her.

“Long ago, there was a prophecy that spoke of the end of the struggle between the dark and light sides of the Force. It was told that one who was strong in the force, stronger than had ever been seen before, would come. At first, they believed it was my father. My sister believed it was me. I believed it was Ben.”

“What happened?”

“I failed him. It’s true,” he continues in response to her unspoken thought, and he lets out a low laugh at her expression as he touches a finger to his temple, as if to remind her of his abilities. “He was a target, and I knew it, but even then I wasn't able to protect him.

"There is a battle waging within Ben Solo, between the dark and the light. It will tear him apart. I believe that is Snoke's goal, to destroy the last of the Skywalker legacy, and prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. However..."

He trails off, turning to face her fully, curiosity plain across his worn features. "He did not plan on you.”

Her heart picks up speed within her chest, threatening to leap up into her throat. He continues as if he hadn’t paused. “You have a great deal of potential. You spoke with Leia, and I can guess what she asked of you."

She'd asked for a great many things. Some things Rey is not sure she can deliver, though she wants to _try_. "She sent me to find you."

His eyes crinkle into a half smile. "That’s not why you’re here."

She swallows tightly, the thud of her pulse roaring through her ears as her hands move to rest instinctively on the saber at her hip, smoothing her thumbs over comforting sensation of the metal. "Honestly, I don't know if I can do this."

His smile grows, although it takes on a bittersweet edge, and she can barely make out his next words. “Neither did I.”

He holds up a hand, stemming her response. “I’m not asking you to be a Jedi. I don’t even know if I can train you. I’m offering to teach you about the force, to help you understand the decision you’ll have to make.”

He gets to his feet and offers her his hand to help her up. “You should sleep on it. Use the cot here; I have another. In the meantime, I’d like to see to my droid, arrtoo – don’t get up, I can sense his location easily enough. Find me in the morning.”

He leaves and she falls asleep watching the embers of the fire, surrounded by the echoes of the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-imagining of the events of the last Jedi, within the 'Hamartia' canon. This should have been posted a long time ago (this is actually the first star wars fic I wrote), but hey, at least we can see where my head!canon's diverged from the last jedi plot. Let me know what you think of the changes. ;)


End file.
